


Of course she needs a walk, Elliot, she's a friggin dog.

by thecannabiskid



Category: Mr. Robot (TV)
Genre: I'm trying to make these longer okay I promise I'm really trying, M/M, Masturbation in Shower, Mr. Robot really loves dogs okay, Public Sex, there's a tag for masturbating in the shower im actually screaming this is amazing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-04
Updated: 2015-08-04
Packaged: 2018-04-12 21:04:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,405
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4494672
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thecannabiskid/pseuds/thecannabiskid
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Elliot takes Flipper for a walk.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Of course she needs a walk, Elliot, she's a friggin dog.

****

            Elliot doesn’t take Flipper for a walk, according to Shayla, Flipper’s the one doing all the walking and he’s just lucky enough to tag along. He’s pretty sure she just took ecstasy in front of him but she scolds him for not walking her more.

            So he’s walking her now. He’s still got bruises on his hips and sides from the last time he saw Mr. Robot. He didn’t show up today. It’s Saturday. He stayed home with Flipper. Brushed her. They watched the news together. It was nice. Really nice. He even moved Qwerty to the window.

            It wasn’t as nice as his shower. He doesn’t usually, uh, masturbate, at least not twice in one day but he keeps thinking about last Saturday.

            Angela had called him out at work. “Elliot, seriously, pay attention.” She had said it before her eyes landed on the bruises on his neck. He avoided her gaze but she didn’t say anything about it. He wasn’t paying attention. He hadn’t been. He’d been trying to figure out what expensive cologne Mr. Robot was wearing when they were on the ferris wheel. She gives him a look when he goes to sit back down and he shrugged away from her gaze.

            Flipper has taken him blocks away while he was thinking. Fuck. It’s dark. Where are they? He doesn’t recognize half these buildings. “Elliot!” He jumps. Coaxes Flipper closer to his side.

            “Mr. Robot?”

            “Hey kiddo, what brings you down this way?”

            “Flipper,” he looks down at the dog. She can’t stop wagging her tail.

            “You have a dog?”

            “Yes,” Mr. Robot crouches down.

            “Cute,” he murmurs, pets Flipper and she licks at his fingers. “When did you get a dog?” It sounds more like _can you take care of yourself enough to have a dog, Elliot. Don’t be stupid._

            “Took her from an asshole,” he’s lighting up a cigarette, takes a hard drag. Why is he nervous? Fuck.

            “Took her?” And he doesn’t have a hard time believing it, actually, what with the way he grabbed him when he showed up at his wok. He should take him to lunch. Somewhere that he can’t slug back an appletini. He clears his throat and shakes the thought. “Can’t imagine someone treating a face like this poorly,” did he say the guy was being a dick to Flipper? He can’t remember. He keeps watching the way Mr. Robot’s mouth curves over every word as he speaks. He laughs. God. Has Mr. Robot’s voice always been so raspy? He’s so horny. Christ. He finishes his cigarette.

            “She pisses everywhere,” Elliot says and Mr. Robot laughs again. Just kill him. He’s getting hard. Fuck. Stop.

            “Seven pounds of absolute terror, huh?” He’s asking Flipper and she yips, stands up on her back legs and Elliot let’s out a small laugh.

            “Never gets enough attention, either, apparently.” He says softly and Mr. Robot looks up at him before returning his attention to Flipper.

            “Does Elliot ignore you?” He coos and Flipper yips again. “You know, it’s good to hear you talk.” Mr. Robot says and Elliot freezes up. “Thought you only knew seven words, maybe ten.”

            “Don’t really like talking.” He says and Mr. Robot stands, looks Elliot in the eye and sighs. “Do you live around here?”

            “Personal information, Elliot.”

            “Darlene knows where I live.” He says and Mr. Robot drags Elliot forward by the front of his sweatshirt and he panics. He can hear Flipper get anxious at his feet and then he’s being kissed. It’s gentle. God his heart feels like it’s going to explode. It shuts him up, though. He’s convinced that was the sole purpose of the kiss. To silence him. He relaxes into it. It’s nice. The way Mr. Robot’s tongue slides against his own, the way it flicks against his teeth when he pulls back. He probably tastes like smoke. He wants to apologize.

            “Enjoy the rest of your evening, Elliot.” He crouches down to pet Flipper. “You too, don’t piss on anything that doesn’t deserve it, okay?” She licks his fingers and Elliot is a little stunned, and fully hard in his jeans, fuck. Fuck. He watches him cross the street and Flipper tugs him along back home.

Did she know?  Did she know he would be there? Impossible, right? Fuck. He looks down at her and she walks with purpose. She pisses, thank God, and they head back inside.

            He can’t breathe. That happened, right? Christ. He feeds Flipper and gets in the shower. Three times in a day. Fuck him his water bill is going to be more this month.

            He works himself open on his fingers, face pressed against the wet shower tiles. Should he have invited Mr. Robot back to his place? Flipper liked him. He has scotch. Angela gave it to him, he isn’t big on drinking and it’s in his cupboard practically untouched. Does Mr. Robot even like scotch? How do you make an appletini? Fuck. “Fu-fuck,” he finds that bundle of nerves, rubs at it while he fists his cock. He’s breathing hard and his vision whites out a little when he cums. He loses his footing when he turns to rinse off and falls flat on his ass in the tub. Ha. Fuck him. Christ his eyes sting. Flipper yelps. “I’m okay,” he calls out and he’s turning the water off, can hear her snuffling outside the door.

            He hurts. Bad. Has to take several pain killers to get the pain down to a dull ache.

            Flipper sleeps on his back when Elliot lies on his stomach on his bed. He relaxes, dozes off a few times.

            He dreams about Mr.  Robot, he’s watching Elliot do morphine. He doesn’t look pleased but he’s so pliant in Mr. Robot’s hands. He can feel the warmth of Mr. Robot’s fingers pressing into him. Teasing him. Catching against the rim of his entrance and he feels like he can’t breathe. He wakes up as his dream self is lowering down on Mr. Robot’s cock. Fuck. He’s hard. His cock is fucking _throbbing_. Flipper isn’t on his back anymore and he looks around, she’s sleeping on the couch. He ruts against the bed, pants into the mattress until he climaxes. Four times in one day. He gets up, changes his briefs and grabs Flipper’s leash. He needs air. He needs to be away from his bed. It’s 1:45 in the morning. He needs air.

            Shayla would be proud of him. It’s dark outside. The kind of dark that makes alleyways look like black holes and it’s the kind of dark that makes Elliot stare. “Gonna get yourself killed. Or worse, someone might take your dog.” His heart is beating fast. It’s Mr. Robot. He’s leaning against the wall of an alley a few blocks from his house. He’s convinced himself that Flipper is sick of his pining and constant showers over the last week. Convinced himself she keeps leading him to Mr. Robot.

            “Hello,” he whispers and he’s taking, one, two, three four steps. Four steps. He kisses Mr. Robot, the loop of Flipper’s leash falls farther down his arm when he cups the other mans face.

            “You could act more excited to see me.” He says and Elliot blinks. He feels like he’s vibrating with excitement. He must not be. He offers a smile and Mr. Robot laughs. “Are you enjoying your night, Elliot?” God. His tone drops. Elliot wants to drag him back to his apartment. “Elliot,” his voice is grounding.

            “Where do you live?”

            “Personal information, Elliot.” Shut up. Christ. He leans into him, guides them away from the street lights and his eyes slowly adjust. Flipper sits as far away as her leash allows. He can see her sitting at the entrance of the alley, her tail wagging.

            “Okay.”

            “You did well today, not coming in,” he’s unbuckling his belt and Elliot’s heartbeat speeds up. “You’re a good listener, Elliot, when you aren’t wandering off in your own head.” He likes praise. This is nice. God, the hand running up his thigh is nice too. “Would you like to be rewarded?” He tries not to laugh. Cheesy. It’s cheesy, It’s a line.

            “If you pull game tickets from your pocket,” Elliot starts and his voice is flat. He can see the smile on Mr. Robot’s face.

            “That’s good. That’s funny. Who knew you could be funny.” He smiles at him. His brain runs slow when he’s near him. Similar to the morphine. Everything is slow.

            “What’s my reward?” He asks and he can’t get the smile off his face. Christ.

            He touches his shoulder. Makes eye contact. He’s seen Shayla do it. Nine out of ten times she gets what she wants. Just with that simple move. That simple shoulder touch. He knows what he wants. Time to get it. He glances over at Flipper who is still sitting, tail wagging and then he looks back at Mr. Robot.

            “Reward,” Mr. Robot says it slowly. “How many tickets do you think you earned?” Fuck. He doesn’t want to talk. He just stares at him. “I’d say no more than ten.”

            “You cheated.” He breathes and Mr. Robot smiles.

            “How many?”

            “How much is the,” he swallows, touches Mr. Robot’s shoulder again and doesn’t make eye contact. “Grand prize?” He sounds ridiculous. Mr. Robot is ridiculous. This is ridiculous. He hears Mr. Robot hum. He’s thinking. It’s an annoying habit he picked up. Elliot noticed it a few weeks ago. When he’s deep in thought he hums.

            “ _Oh_ ,” he says it like he just realized what Elliot is asking for. “I think ten is enough.” He says. “I did cheat.” That surprises him.

            Well fuck him, he didn’t think it would work. Fuck. Good for him.

            Mr. Robot takes the leash from him, slips his wrist through the loop and turns Elliot around. He makes quick work of their pants and Elliot lets out a breathy moan when he hears the click of a cap. Mr. Robot presses against him. “You’ve got to be _very_ quiet, Elliot.” He whispers and the chill that runs down Elliot’s spine is becoming a close first to the things he’s addicted to. He presses a finger in and Mr. Robot makes a pleasant sound before adding another finger. He’s bracing himself on his forearms, whines when a third finger is added and Mr. Robot presses his forehead against Elliot’s back.

            “Sorry,” he chokes out and fuck he’s still being loud. Don’t talk. He hears the foil being ripped and then the press of Mr. Robot’s cock and he’s pushing back.

            “Relax, kid, not going anywhere.” Mr. Robot murmurs and Elliot grinds back against him. He feels ridiculous. God, but he _needs_ this. He really fucking needs this.

            It’s hitting him all at once. Where he is. What he’s doing. Who’s doing it to him. He can feel his cock leaking and he’s really fucked up. This is really fucked up. He shouldn’t be enjoying this so much. He should have invited Mr. Robot back to his apartment. Mr. Robot moves and Elliot lets out a guttural moan. Shit. Fuck. Christ.

            “Is the being quiet part hard foryou?” Mr. Robot hisses and Elliot presses his forehead against the bricks. Gross. Don’t do that. He doesn’t listen to himself. Feels his forehead rub against the bricks with every thrust. The slight pain is grounding.

            “Don’t care,” Mr. Robot presses two fingers into his mouth.

            “I do,” he gives a particularly hard thrust and Elliot is moaning around his fingers. “If you keep it up I’ll gag you next time.” He likes that idea. Moans a little louder on the next thrust and Mr. Robot picks up his pace. “When you finish,” his voice is rough against Elliot’s ear, he’s having trouble focusing. “You’ll finish walking Flipper and you’ll go home.” He moves his fingers from Elliot’s mouth, Elliot chases them with his tongue and Mr. Robot hums softly.

            He pulls all the way out and Elliot whimpers at the loss. Mr. Robot angles his next thrust, hits Elliot’s prostate hard and he’s choking on a moan. He does it again. Fuck. And again. “Again,” Elliot’s breathing is ragged and Mr. Robot fucks him hard. Drags his blunt nails over Elliot’s thighs before rubbing the damp spot on his briefs.

            “Such a good boy,” he murmurs, and Elliot cums so hard his vision is spotty. Mr. Robot fucks him through it before pulling out. Disposes of the condom and fixes his pants before fixing Elliot’s briefs and pants.

            “You, didn-didn’t finish,” God he feels like he just took a hit. His heart is pounding. He can’t focus.

            “Go, Elliot,” he’s putting Flipper’s leash in his hand and he’s moving to leave. Elliot grabs his hand, tugs him back.

            “No,” he’s undoing Mr. Robot’s pants and he sighs, pushes him back against the other side of the alley and Flipper moves so there’s less strain on her leash.

            “Kiddo,” he starts and Elliot kisses him, hand cupping the side of his neck and he nips the others bottom lip before pulling back.

            “Can I?”

            “Thought you were a better listener, Elliot.” He sounds disappointed and Elliot freezes. He doesn’t want Elliot to touch him. He’s fucked up. Fuck. “Get home before the bars let out,” he’s giving him a soft push and the poor kid looks so confused it almost breaks his heart. “It’s fine,” he assures him and Elliot backs out of the alley slowly before turning. Flipper follows him. He should have invited him back to his apartment. He wouldn’t mind getting fucked again. Christ, how is he still horny? He looks back over his shoulder. No Mr. Robot.

            “You walked her,” Shayla says and she’s smiling at him.

            “Yeah.”

            “You look a little shaken, Elliot, are you alright?” She looks at the scrape on his forehead before looking him back in the eye. He nods.

            “Yeah.”

            “You promise?” He nods again. She doesn’t push him anymore, watches the door close and Elliot let’s Flipper off her leash, changes into clean clothes and cleans the scrape on his forehead.

            He lets Flipper sleep in his bed again. This can’t become a habit. It can’t. And he isn’t sure if he means Flipper sleeping in his bed or him finding Mr. Robot. Wanting Mr. Robot to fuck him. It can’t become a habit. It can’t.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm trying to make these longer. The next one should be longer. I'm so sorry.  
> You can find me on tumblr, I'm moira-af so that's cool.  
> Someone did fanart for one of these fics and I actually cried it was so amazing and you're so amazing like shout out to you foreal I love you.  
> If you do follow me on tumblr you might have seen my post about my mom having cancer. I'm doing the best I can, I have to help out a lot so the next fic might be a day or two. Like I'm trying to make these longer, I beta myself, I have a lot of breakdowns and stuff so I'm seriously trying, like believe me I am trying !!! I hope you enjoy this, I honestly hate how much I like this one. I keep forgetting to add useless facts but the next fic will have a ton of them, incredible. Any typos are my fault, sorry.


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